the navel times and observer

So, haven't written here in a while. Most of my writing's been in my personal paper journal, not near to the descriptive detail as I've written before, but then most of the messages here are repeating. To sum it up.

1) I need to figure this job out, I've been told that I've worked hard but just haven't gotten the number or quality of stories to make paying me full time worth their money.
2) I need to sleep more, exercise more and watch less television.
3) There ain't nobody my age and single in Lamar.

Whining? Well, yes. But then it's my journal, and the me, me, me direction is just where I tend to go in journals. You can write about yourself in yours.

So anyway I gave it my best. I went to church last Sunday and will go again tomorrow. I've now been to both bars in town (yeah, no surprises there whatsoever). My hopes went up when I saw a young bartender who I knew had to be 18 or older (or breaking ordinances somewhere). Sadly, hopes dashed. She was a man.

Just kidding. But no opportunity there.

The other bar is a tavern open from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. The owner, Frog, is cool, gave me a free Coke, but there ain't much happening before 6 p.m.

So, yeah. Beyond that I was in a Sonic tonight and when the waitress brought me food she said "I see you at my school all the time." This struck a brief note of fear because I'm 23 years old. Which is, I believe, old enough that I would definitely be a "creepy stalker guy" if I spent a lot of time outside High Schools.

I explained that I was a reporter and was grateful to hear that this waitress (to whom I'd spoken before) didn't have the prior assumption. I'm a bit too young to get that stalker label stuck to me in this town.

Yeah, sorry to whine like this, but I do have something light to add. On Wednesday (or Thursday, who knows?) I saw a group of high school students with a police officer, they were teaching safety lessons to elementary school students. The funny part was when one of them donned a sailor's shirt and hat next to the policeman. I had to ask. Where's the indian? Where's the construction worker?

On another note I have a scanner now in my room and 3 alarm clocks which I end up putting on snooze in sort of a staggered pattern for about an hour every morning, at least so far. The funny part is one of my alarm clocks talks to me, there's a cowboy, a Johnny Cochrane impersonator, a mafia boss impersonator and an indian accent on that machine and they all order you out of bed or just insult you out of a general habit.

So every morning I'm combining voices from two machines and trying to take notes in my half-awake state. I never really bothered to ask why the cowboy was heading to N. Pine to take care of the 1034. I just wrote (well, scribbled) it down.